The whole afternoon I spent getting ready for the evening. The helpers scrubbed my skin raw, bathed me in rose-scented water, and soaked my hair in a blend of coconut and olive oil. Verona, ever diligent, brushed out my hair until it shone, her fingers weaving it into a crown atop my head. The scent of roses and the rich oils clung to me, creating a heady mix that filled the room.
A new dress was stationed at my bed, this time ivory white in color and partnered with a long, lacy veil. It weighed like nothing, all fine silk and lace, that I worry might be too revealing. The sleeves were cut just a few inches above my bust, bodice dipping scandalously low, and the skirt hugged waist and legs.
Mother had made sure my fashion will make it to tomorrow's headlines. Jewelry came next—simple yet stunning. A pair of diamond earrings, a delicate bracelet, and a silver necklace that rested just above the neckline of my dress. Verona places the veil, pining it behind my head, and her eyes meet mine in the mirror. They had a certain gleam to them, that I knew all too well.
New information. One she's dying to spill.
"Turn's out your betrothed is much more interesting than I thought."
"Spare me the theatrics, Verona." I keep my eyes on my reflection, adjusting the veil one last time. "Tell me."
"Well, remember Edward Kingsley's three grandsons, how they're all in the Galerie's executive suite?" A smirk forming on her lips. "Alistair is currently head of finances, which is admittedly already a huge role. BUT I've heard that Edward Kingsley soon be ste–"
A knock at the door. I turn to Verona, who did not appreciate the disturbance. "We'll continue this tonight."
I place my hand on the door handle. I sigh. "For now, I'll have to endure my wedding ceremony." I open the door.
The wedding will take place at the Paseo orchard. To be honest, I would have argued if I had known earlier, but I decided against it. The Paseo is sacred to me, with fond memories of my debut taking place at the very location. I don't want them to be stained with the sham of a wedding. But of course, I had to understand the time restraints we were facing. That was the only place that could cater not just an event–but the union of two powerful families in Sideral. We went there by a white automobile, adorned with white flowers and ribbons. The journey was short but felt like an eternity as I stared out the window, watching the landscape blur into the evening as the sun set.
The Paseo features a huge willow tree in the middle of a wide grassy field, its branches creeping at the sides, forming a concave arch . Back in September, my birth month, it was all green. But now, it has blooms of a light yellow hue, the lanterns casting a golden glow over the scene. The entire field was transformed into an ethereal setting, with fairy lights hanging from the branches and flower petals lining the aisle.
As I step out of the car, I hear my heart pounding in my ears. The sheer number of guests is overwhelming. Rows upon rows of seats are filled with elegantly dressed people, all eyes turning towards me. The weight of their gazes press at my nerves, and I had to summon every ounce of composure to keep my face serene. This place, once a sanctuary of joyful memories, now felt like a stage where I had to perform. The pretense of this wedding loomed over me, threatening to overshadow the cherished moments I had here.
Mother, instead of walking me to the altar, sits in front alongside my siblings. A subtle show that I will be filling in her footsteps. Yet, I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin. To me, that wasn't the case: I didn't need her to walk.
As I pass down the aisle, I feel my legs trembling slightly beneath the thin fabric of my gown. I have never felt so bare. Each step feels heavier than the last, but I maintain a steady pace.
"She looks beautiful…"
"… a darling…"
"… a pretty face."
"You look like a knight," Someone whispers. "going into battle."
My breathing stops when I saw Alistair beside me, his presence both reassuring and intimidating. He looks dashing in his white suit, his hair slicked back. I was thankful when he didn't say anything after that.
The ceremony proceeded in a blur, each word and gesture blending together. My heart raced as the officiant spoke. And then, it's time for the kiss. My stomach churns at the thought of kissing Alistair in front of everyone, the very idea making my palms sweat.
I glance at Alistair, who is watching me with an unreadable expression.
"Let me take care of this," Alistair whispers.
He leans in slowly, giving me time to prepare, but it did little to calm my nerves. I close my eyes. His hand cups my cheek gently, sending a surprising sense of comfort through me.
I never felt his lips on mine. But the crowd erupts in cheers and applause.
My eyes flutter open and I see Alistair's face incredibly close to mine, his eyes closed, head angled perfectly to conceal the reality of our so-called kiss. The hand on my cheek created the illusion for the audience, shielding our lie from their view.
I allow myself to take in the sight of his face, something I hadn't had the chance to do before. His eyelashes are long enough to cast shadows on his cheeks. He smells nice too, a blend of sandalwood and something sweet.
"Enjoying the view?" he murmurs, his eyes opening slowly as he pulls back.
I try to think of a retort, something clever to counter his annoying question, but I decide against it. My gaze softens with gratitude. "Thank you."
The reception was a grand affair, held at the Galerie du temps. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the elegantly dressed guests, who mingled and laughed with each other, sipping on flutes of champagne— a special blend from The Elysium. The tables were adorned with lavish floral arrangements and the air was filled with the delicate scent of roses and lilies. A string quartet played softly in the corner, their music blending in with the hum of conversation.
I navigate through the crowd, offering polite smiles and nods to those who congratulated me. Despite the festive atmosphere, a knot of anxiety still remains tight in my stomach. The day had been a whirlwind, and now, with the formalities behind us, I feel the strange sense of detachment from the revelry around me.
As I stand near the refreshment table, absently swirling a glass of champagne, Verona appears by my side. She leans in close, her voice a conspiratorial whisper.
"My lady," she bows, eyeing around cautiously, "if I may trouble you for a moment."
"No trouble is too much if it means escaping this facade," I mumble under my breath. She tried not to smile.
"Remember our conversation from earlier?"
"About Alistair and his role at the Galerie?"
"Follow me," she says, tugging gently at my arm. We slip through the crowd, weaving our way towards a quieter corner of the room. Once we're relatively alone, she continues. "As I was saying before we were interrupted, Alistair is currently the head of finances at the Galerie. But there's more to it than just that."
Verona's eyes are sparkling with the thrill. "Apparently, Edward Kingsley is planning to step down soon. There's a lot of speculation about who will take over."
"And you think it will be Alistair?" I ask, placing a hand under my chin, my interest piqued.
"Oh, I know it will be Alistair." She crosses her arms. "He's the most capable of the three grandsons, from what I've heard, and Edward's favorite. But there's tension among them, especially with the eldest, Albert. Alistair taking the lead could stir up quite a bit of trouble."
I process this, considering the implications. "So, he has a lot riding on this. It makes sense why he'd be so willing to go through with the wedding."
"I don't think that's the case, my lady," Verona interjects. "As your betrothed mentioned earlier, he was planning to call off the wedding."
"You think Alistair isn't aware of all this?"
"If he is, I do not think he's interested in it at all." Verona glances around to ensure no one was listening, then leans in even closer. "From what I've gathered, Alistair is hesitant to assume his role. He doesn't want the burden of leading the Galerie or the estate."
I furrow my brow. "Why would he hesitate? It's a prestigious position."
Verona sighs. "That, I do not know. He's been trying to find a way out of it, which is why he initially wanted to call off the wedding. Marrying into another powerful family would only be another load to his stack of responsibilities."
I glance over at Alistair, who is now deeply engaged in conversation with a group of influential guests. His calm and composed exterior masked the inner turmoil Verona described.
"So, he's trapped,"I say, softly. "Just like me."